


Flames

by stormboxx



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: Falling In Love, Flirting, M/M, Reflection, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 13:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15143957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormboxx/pseuds/stormboxx
Summary: Jack Twist doesn't know what he wants in life. Through campsite fires at night, he starts to understand.





	Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Short drabble/one-shot thing that sort of just happened. BBM's constantly been on my mind since April (after I rewatched the film for the first time in ten years...)
> 
> Hope you like it <3

**Flames**

 

Jack didn’t really know what he wanted in life. Not for himself. Not for his parents. He didn’t really know much of anything. But as he sat by the fire late at night in July, looking into the flames and hearing the sound of wood burning in pops and sizzles, he knew that it would somehow be part of it. Part of what he wanted, and what he needed in his life.

Looking through the flames, sometimes he would see darkness. Night, and just that. Other times, though, there would be a face there. An expressionless, stoic face; lips slightly pressed together, eyes looking into the very same fire. Sometimes those eyes would meet his, but briefly. Only for a split second before they would look down again, into the flames. A golden blaze reflected in them so brightly.

After a swig or three of whiskey, the eyes would linger a bit longer, and Jack made sport of holding that gaze. No smile would show, though, but that didn’t bother Jack. He would be the one to smile, taking up on the challenge, and then the eyes would widen before hurriedly finding newfound interest in the ground. Another swig and they’d be back, looking again. It was a fun game. The rules never explained; no winner ever chosen. That wasn’t important. The thrill of the game, and the game in itself, was all that mattered.

Jack didn’t know much of anything, really. He was 19 years old, and all he’d ever seen of the world were the fields of Wyoming through the cracked windshield of a dirt cheap truck. But what he did know, was this: he would gladly watch sheep all day and all night with no pay, out of the goodness of his heart, if it meant he could see those brown eyes looking back at him through the hot glow of a campfire.

 

Joe Aguirre definitely could’ve saved himself some money.


End file.
